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THE PRINCESS CASAMASSIMA
left, the other rested on the ledge of the box – with the expectation,
as he perceived, to his extreme mortifi cation, too late, that he would
give her his own. She converted the gesture into a sign of invitation, and beckoned him, silently but graciously, to move his chair
forward. He did so, and seated himself between the two ladies; then,
for ten minutes, stared straight before him, at the stage, not turning
his eyes suffi ciently even to glance up at Millicent in the balcony.
He looked at the play, but he was far from seeing it; he had no sense
of anything but the woman who sat there, close to him, on his right,
with a fragrance in her garments and a light about her which he
seemed to see even while his head was averted. The vision had been
only of a moment, but it hung before him, threw a vague white mist
over the proceedings on the stage. He was embarrassed, overturned,
bewildered, and he knew it; he made a great effort to collect himself,
to consider the situation lucidly. He wondered whether he ought
to speak, to look at her again, to behave differently, in some way;
whether she would take him for a clown, for an idiot; whether she
were really as beautiful as she had seemed or if it were only a superfi cial glamour, which a renewed inspection would dissipate. While
he asked himself these questions the minutes went on, and neither
of his hostesses spoke; they watched the play in perfect stillness, so
that Hyacinth divined that this was the proper thing and that he
himself must remain dumb until a word should be bestowed upon
him. Little by little he recovered himself, took possession of his predicament, and at last transferred his eyes to the Princess. She immediately perceived this, and returned his glance, with a soft smile.
She might well be a princess – it was impossible to conform more to
the fi nest evocations of that romantic word. She was fair, brilliant,
slender, with a kind of effortless majesty. Her beauty had an air of
perfection; it astonished and lifted one up, the sight of it seemed
a privilege, a reward. If the fi rst impression it had given Hyacinth
171
HENRY JAMES
was to make him feel strangely transported, he need not have been
too much agitated, for this was the effect the Princess Casamassima produced upon persons of a wider experience and greater pretensions. Her dark eyes, blue or gray, something that was not brown,
were as sweet as they were splendid, and there was an extraordinary
light nobleness in the way she held her head. That head, where two
or three diamond stars glittered in the thick, delicate hair which
defi ned its shape, suggested to Hyacinth something antique and celebrated, which he had admired of old – the memory was vague – in
a statue, in a picture, in a museum. Purity of line and form, of cheek
and chin and lip and brow, a colour that seemed to live and glow,
a radiance of grace and eminence and success – these things were
seated in triumph in the face of the Princess, and Hyacinth, as he
held himself in his chair, trembling with the revelation, wondered
whether she were not altogether of some different substance from
the humanity he had hitherto known. She might be divine, but he
could see that she understood human needs – that she wished him
to be at his ease and happy; there was something familiar in her
smile, as if she had seen him many times before. Her dress was dark
and rich; she had pearls round her neck, and an old rococo fan in her
hand. Hyacinth took in all these things, and fi nally said to himself
that if she wanted nothing more of him than that, he was content,
he would like it to go on; so pleasant was it to sit with fi ne ladies, in
a dusky, spacious receptacle which framed the bright picture of the
stage and made one’s own situation seem a play within the play. The
act was a long one, and the repose in which his companions left him
might have been a calculated indulgence, to enable him to get used
to them, to see how harmless they were. He looked at Millicent, in
the course of time, and saw that Captain Sholto, seated beside her,
had not the same standard of propriety, inasmuch as he made a remark to her every few minutes. Like himself, the young lady in the
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THE PRINCESS CASAMASSIMA
balcony was losing the play, thanks to her eyes being fi xed on her
friend from Lomax Place, whose position she thus endeavoured to
gauge. Hyacinth had quite given up the Paraguayan complications;
by the end of the half-hour his attention might have come back to
them, had he not then been engaged in wondering what the Princess would say to him after the descent of the curtain – or whether
she would say anything. The consideration of this problem, as the
moment of the solution drew nearer, made his heart again beat faster. He watched the old lady on his left, and supposed it was natural
that a princess should have an attendant – he took for granted she
was an attendant – as different as possible from herself. This ancient dame was without majesty or grace; huddled together, with her
hands folded on her stomach and her lips protruding, she solemnly
followed the performance. Several times, however, she turned her
head to Hyacinth, and then her expression changed; she repeated
the jovial, encouraging, almost motherly nod with which she had
greeted him when he made his bow, and by which she appeared to
wish to intimate that, better than the serene beauty on the other
side, she could enter into the oddity, the discomfort, of his situation.
She seemed to say to him that he must keep his head, and that if the
worst should come to the worst she was there to look after him. Even
when, at last, the curtain descended, it was some moments before
the Princess spoke, though she rested her smile upon Hyacinth as if
she were considering what he would best like her to say. He might
at that instant have guessed what he discovered later – that among
this lady’s faults (he was destined to learn that they were numerous) not the least eminent was an exaggerated fear of the commonplace. He expected she would make some remark about the play, but
what she said was, very gently and kindly, “I like to know all sorts
of people.”
173
HENRY JAMES
“I shouldn’t think you would fi nd the least diffi culty in that,”
Hyacinth replied.
“Oh, if one wants anything very much, it’s sure to be diffi cult.
Every one isn’t as obliging as you.”
Hyacinth could think, immediately, of no proper rejoinder to
this; but the old lady saved him the trouble by declaring, with a foreign accent, “I think you were most extraordinarily good-natured.
I had no idea you would come – to two strange women.”
“Yes, we are strange women,” said the Princess, musingly.
“It’s not true that she fi nds things diffi cult; she makes every one
do everything,” her companion went on.
The Princess glanced at her; then remarked to Hyacinth, “Her
name is Madame Grandoni.” Her tone was not familiar, but there
was a friendly softness in it, as if he had really taken so much trouble
for them that it was only just he should be entertained a little at
their expense. It seemed to imply, also, that Madame Grandoni’s fi tness for supplying such entertainment was obvious.
“But I am not Italian – ah no!” the old lady cried. “In spite of my
name, I am an honest, ugly, unfortunate German. But it doesn’t matter. She also, with such a name, isn’t Italian, either. It’s an accident;
the world is full of accidents. But she isn’t German, poor lady, any
more.” Madame GrandonI appeared to have entered into the Princess’s view, and Hyacinth thought her exceedingly amusing. In a moment she added, “That was a very charming person you were with.”
“Yes, she is very charming,” Hyacinth replied, not sorry to have
a chance to say it.
The Princess made no remark on this subject, and Hyacinth perceived not only that from her position in the box she could have
had no glimpse of Millicent, but that she would never take up such
an allusion as that. It was as if she had not heard it that she asked,
“Do you consider the play very interesting?”
174
THE PRINCESS CASAMASSIMA
Hyacinth hesitated a moment, and then told the simple truth.
“I must confess that I have lost the whole of this last act.”
“Ah, poor bothered young man!” cried Madame Grandoni. “You
see – you see!”
“What do I see?” the Princess inquired. “If you are annoyed at
being here now, you will like us later; probably, at least. We take
a great interest in the things you care for. We take a great interest in
the people,” the Princess went on.
“Oh, allow me, allow me, and speak only for yourself!” the elder
lady interposed. “I take no interest in the people; I don’t understand
them, and I know nothing about them. An honourable nature, of
any class, I always respect it; but I will not pretend to a passion for
the ignorant masses, because I have it not. Moreover, that doesn’t
touch the gentleman.”
The Princess Casamassima had, evidently, a faculty of completely ignoring things of which she wished to take no account; it was not
in the least the air of contempt, but a kind of thoughtful, tranquil
absence, after which she came back to the point where she wished to
be. She made no protest against her companion’s speech, but said to
Hyacinth, as if she were only vaguely conscious that the old lady had
been committing herself in some absurd way, “She lives with me; she
is everything to me; she is the best woman in the world.”
“Yes, fortunately, with many superfi cial defects, I am very good,”
Madame GrandonI remarked.
Hyacinth, by this time, was less embarrassed than when he presented himself to the Princess Casamassima, but he was not less
mystifi ed; he wondered afresh whether he were not being practised
upon for some inconceivable end; so strange did it seem to him
that two such fi ne ladies should, of their own movement, take the
trouble to explain each other to a miserable little bookbinder. This
idea made him fl ush; it was as if it had come over him that he had
175
HENRY JAMES
fallen into a trap. He was conscious that he looked frightened, and
he was conscious the moment afterwards that the Princess noticed
it. This was, apparently, what made her say, “If you have lost so much
of the play I ought to tell you what has happened.”
“Do you think he would follow that any more?” Madame GrandonI exclaimed.
“If you would tell me – if you would tell me —” And then Hyacinth stopped. He had been going to say, ‘If you would tell me what
all this means and what you want of me, it would be more to the
point!’ but the words died on his lips, and he sat staring, for the
woman at his right was simply too beautiful. She was too beautiful to question, to judge by common logic; and how could he know,
moreover, what was natural to a person in that exaltation of grace
and splendour? Perhaps it was her habit to send out every evening
for some naпf stranger, to amuse her; perhaps that was the way the
foreign aristocracy lived. There was no sharpness in her face, at the
present moment at least; there was nothing but luminous sweetness, yet she looked as if she knew what was going on in his mind.
She made no eager attempt to reassure him, but there was a world of
delicate consideration in the tone in which she said, “Do you know,
I am afraid I have already forgotten what they have been doing in
the play? It’s terribly complicated; some one or other was hurled
over a precipice.”
“Ah, you’re a brilliant pair,” Madame GrandonI remarked, with
a laugh of long experience. “I could describe everything. The person
who was hurled over the precipice was the virtuous hero, and you
will see, in the next act, that he was only slightly bruised.”
“Don’t describe anything; I have so much to ask.” Hyacinth had
looked away, in tacit deprecation, at hearing himself ‘paired’ with
the Princess, and he felt that she was watching him. “What do you
think of Captain Sholto?” she went on, suddenly, to his surprise,
176
THE PRINCESS CASAMASSIMA
if anything, in his position, could excite that sentiment more than
anything else; and as he hesitated, not knowing what to say, she added, “Isn’t he a very curious type?”
“I know him very little,” Hyacinth replied; and he had no sooner
uttered the words than it struck him they were far from brilliant –
they were poor and fl at, and very little calculated to satisfy the
Princess. Indeed, he refl ected that he had said nothing at all that
could place him in a favourable light; so he continued, at a venture:
“I mean, I have never seen him at home.” That sounded still more
silly.
“At home? Oh, he is never at home; he is all over the world. Tonight he was as likely to have been in Paraguay, for instance, as here.
He is what they call a cosmopolite. I don’t know whether you know
that species; very modern, more and more frequent, and exceedingly
tiresome. I prefer the Chinese! He had told me he had had a great
deal of interesting talk with you. That was what made me say to him,
‘Oh, do ask him to come in and see me. A little interesting talk, that
would be a change!’”
“She is very complimentary to me!” said Madame Grandoni.
“Ah, my dear, you and I, you know, we never talk: we understand
each other without that!” Then the Princess pursued, addressing
herself to Hyacinth, “Do you never admit women?”
“Admit women?”
“Into those sйances – what do you call them? – those little
meetings that Captain Sholto described to me. I should like so much
to be present. Why not?”
“I haven’t seen any ladies,” Hyacinth said. “I don’t know whether it’s a rule, but I have seen nothing but men;” and he added, smiling, though he thought the dereliction rather serious, and couldn’t
understand the part Captain Sholto was playing, nor, considering
the grand company he kept, how he had originally secured admit-
177
HENRY JAMES
tance into the subversive little circle in Bloomsbury, “You know
I’m not sure Captain Sholto ought to go about reporting our proceedings.”
“I see. Perhaps you think he’s a spy, or something of that sort.”
“No,” said Hyacinth, after a moment. “I think a spy would he
more careful – would disguise himself more. Besides, after all, he
has heard very little.” And Hyacinth smiled again.
“You mean he hasn’t really been behind the scenes?” the Princess asked, bending forward a little, and now covering the young
man steadily with her deep, soft eyes, as if by this time he must have
got used to her and wouldn’t fl inch from such attention. “Of course
he hasn’t, and he never will be; he knows that, and that it’s quite
out of his power to tell any real secrets. What he repeated to me
was interesting, but of course I could see that there was nothing the
authorities, anywhere, could put their hand on. It was mainly the
talk he had had with you which struck him so very much, and which
struck me, as you see. Perhaps you didn’t know how he was drawing
you out.”
“I am afraid that’s rather easy,” said Hyacinth, with perfect candour, as it came over him that he had chattered, with a vengeance,
in Bloomsbury, and had thought it natural enough then that his sociable fellow-visitor should offer him cigars and attach importance
to the views of a clever and original young artisan.
“I am not sure that I fi nd it so! However, I ought to tell you that
you needn’t have the least fear of Captain Sholto. He’s a perfectly
honest man, so far as he goes; and even if you had trusted him much
more than you appear to have done, he would be incapable of betraying you. However, don’t trust him: not because he’s not safe, but
because — No matter, you will see for yourself. He has gone into that
sort of thing simply to please me. I should tell you, merely to make
you understand, that he would do anything for that. That’s his own
178
THE PRINCESS CASAMASSIMA
affair. I wanted to know something, to learn something, to ascertain
what really is going on; and for a woman everything of that sort is
so diffi cult, especially for a woman in my position, who is known,
and to whom every sort of bad faith is sure to be imputed. So Sholto
said he would look into the subject for me; poor man, he has had to
look into so many subjects! What I particularly wanted was that he
should make friends with some of the leading spirits, really characteristic types.” The Princess’s voice was low and rather deep, and
her tone very quick; her manner of speaking was altogether new to
her listener, for whom the pronunciation of her words and the very
punctuation of her sentences were a kind of revelation of ‘society’.
“Surely Captain Sholto doesn’t suppose that I am a leading spirit!” Hyacinth exclaimed, with the determination not to be laughed
at any more than he could help.
The Princess hesitated a moment; then she said, “He told me you
were very original.”
“He doesn’t know, and – if you will allow me to say so – I don’t
think you know. How should you? I am one of many thousands of
young men of my class – you know, I suppose, what that is – in
whose brains certain ideas are fermenting. There is nothing original
about me at all. I am very young and very ignorant; it’s only a few
months since I began to talk of the possibility of a social revolution
with men who have considered the whole ground much more than
I have done. I’m a mere particle in the immensity of the people. All
I pretend to is my good faith, and a great desire that justice shall be
done.”
The Princess listened to him intently, and her attitude made
him feel how little he, in comparison, expressed himself like a person who had the habit of conversation; he seemed to himself to
stammer and emit common sounds. For a moment she said nothing, only looking at him with her pure smile. “I do draw you out!”
179
HENRY JAMES
she exclaimed, at last. “You are much more interesting to me than
if you were an exception.” At these last words Hyacinth fl inched
a hair’s breadth; the movement was shown by his dropping his eyes.
We know to what extent he really regarded himself as of the stuff of
the common herd. The Princess doubtless guessed it as well, for she
quickly added, “At the same time, I can see that you are remarkable
enough.”
“What do you think I am remarkable for?”
“Well, you have general ideas.”
“Every one has them to-day. They have them in Bloomsbury to
a terrible degree. I have a friend (who understands the matter much
better than I) who has no patience with them: he declares they are
our danger and our bane. A few very special ideas – if they are the
right ones – are what we want.”
“Who is your friend?” the Princess asked, abruptly.
“Ah, Christina, Christina,” Madame GrandonI murmured from
the other side of the box.
Christina took no notice of her, and Hyacinth, not understanding the warning, and only remembering how personal women always are, replied, “A young man who lives in Camberwell, an assistant at a wholesale chemist’s.”
If he had expected that this description of his friend was a bigger
dose than his hostess would be able to digest, he was greatly mistaken. She seemed to look tenderly at the picture suggested by his
words, and she immediately inquired whether the young man were
also clever, and whether she might not hope to know him. Hadn’t
Captain Sholto seen him; and if so, why hadn’t he spoken of him,
too? When Hyacinth had replied that Captain Sholto had probably
seen him, but that he believed he had had no particular conversation with him, the Princess inquired, with startling frankness,
whether her visitor wouldn’t bring his friend, some day, to see her.
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